


Minutia

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-09-28
Updated: 2003-09-28
Packaged: 2018-12-27 12:34:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12081159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Forever caught up in minutia. Late-nights yield the sort of conversations that couples shouldnâ€™t be made of. Set after 314.





	Minutia

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Lord knows what Justin’s doing up at four thirty-nine in the morning, but whatever it is can’t be conducive to relaxation. Brian moves in a slow stretch, groans depreciatively and fluffs sleep-spiked bangs. His hand flops down onto the pillow with an angry smack.

“What the fuck?” he asks aloud, brooding. 

It’s obvious Justin had no clue Brian was awake, because he really starts in his seat; a ridiculously comical half-surge out of it and then a hefty thump back down. Oww, Christ, as if poor Sunshine’s ass isn’t abused enough already.

“Brian? Why are you…” distracted, anxious, Justin trails off and searches for how to set the computer to screen saver. Brian almost points out that he can switch the monitor off just as easily, or even close the porn site he’s probably looking at, but whatever. Watching Justin fret is much more entertaining. “Why are you awake?” he finishes, and now there’s a relieved, almost smugly confident note in his voice as he presses for the saver. Pale images bounce onto the screen and shine out an extra few feet into the murk of the loft. Justin stands and shoves away from the desk.

“Same question.”

Justin’s eyes somehow zero in on Brian’s thinned lips and maybe just a little worried narrowed eyes. He shifts, and in the haloed shadow of a computer screen saver, he looks twice his height and pieced together from bizarre nightmares Brian occasionally has. 

“Uh.” Justin still isn’t moving, and hello, Brian’s only going to catch onto his game, he’s a shit liar, even if he’s blurry from the distance. “Just can’t. I think I ate too much chocolate before bed or something.” Brian notices that Justin’s wearing his jeans and a tight t-shirt. What the fuck? He distinctly remembers sliding into bed with that patented bare ass not five hours ago.

“Going somewhere?” 

“No. I mean… No.” 

There are around fifty brilliant retorts to that, and Brian chokes on all of them. He sits up completely, scrubs at his eyes with the warm palm of his hand and says, “You never twink up for me like this when we go on dates.”

A direct opening, a perfect serve. Justin only blinks. “Uh, Brian?”

Shit. Goddamn it. Brian even managed to leave room for _‘we go on dates?’_ and the kid fucked it up. “So, what IS the occasion? Cyber? Rate-A-Stud? Goth Gays Dot Com?”

Realization dawns in muted colors. “Oh, I wasn’t surfing for porn…” He laughs. Brian is close to believing him.

“Now, honey, pornography is a perfectly normal, healthy outlet for sexual tension.” Brian’s sickly-sweet and rolling on the waves of Justin’s discomfort.

“Bria-”

“You should have told me you were horny, you little shit.” Now he’s flat and disapproving. 

Justin’s fucking silent.

In an instant, Brian has an image of Justin magically appearing at the bedside, still wearing those faded jeans and tight shirt, one knee set on the mattress, one gasp poised on moist lips to set flight as Brian’s fingers steal up his chest and tweak a nipple. Brian’s cock has an ohfuckyes moment and the instant moves on.

“I really wasn’t looking at porn.” His voice dips and whirrs like white noise, soft and chastened thoroughly, mixing with the faint hum of the computer. “I wouldn’t lie about shit like that.” 

He wouldn’t. No greater truth spoken. Brian sighs. They’re both tangled in minutia.

“No need for secrecy, then.” No need to point at the damned screen saver, either, but Brian does so. “Spill.”

Justin fidgets. Brian is about two seconds away from shoving away covers, hastily climbing out of bed, and stomping towards an argument. At least an argument is exciting minutia, it gets you somewhere. Most likely towards great make-up sex.

“I – was working on a project for something. To, eh, bring in some funds. You know. Mikey’s pretty busy with the Hunter thing, and I need… I need… money. Soon. Like, now.” Justin’s not so much white noise anymore, or even minutia, and suddenly all ideas of arguments and make-up sex are far from Brian’s mind.

“I see.” 

Surprise and a flush of something like humiliation flicker away quickly from Brian’s immediate consciousness to be replaced with a simmering anger. Worry, worry, worry, that’s all Justin does. Brian hopes and prays that Sunshine has the fucking sense to be working on that project for his lone little self. Because if there’s so much as one mention of advertising, of alternate firms, or money solutions for professionals, Brian will lose it.

“Even without school dominating my time, the diner pays pittance.” Pittance. Brian has a deep understanding of what living on that word can do to a person. He winces at Justin’s slicing truth, even if it was unintentional. “Rage is in the works, I’m not gathering any profit and won’t be for a while. Now,” and his voice starts to lilt with fractured amusement, “unless you want to see your boyfriend sucking dick for money –”

“Oh, I hardly think it will come to that,” Brian interrupts harshly, shock and awe rearing its ugly head. Justin reads him like a book, per usual.

“You know as well as I do that I’m fucked if I don’t find something.”

The established tone of the evening is back down to timid seriousness, and Brian is glad. He doesn’t think he can take another round of boyfriend, especially without _‘unconventional’_ tacked onto it.

“So find something,” Brian concurs. “But do it when you’re not liable to wake Sleeping Beauty.” 

Justin snorts, and the last remnants of discomfiture are gone. “I’d peg you more as Beast.” He turns around, torso blocking the screen, but it doesn’t matter now as Brian doesn’t want to look anyway, saves his little project, and shuts the system down.

“Wrong fairy tale.” By the time he’s said that, Justin’s got his clothes off and is climbing into bed.

“Wow, delayed reaction if I’ve ever heard one.”

“I can’t help it, I’m tired.” He sulkily peers up at Justin underneath heavy lids. “You’re lucky I’m even coherent.”

“You’re coherent enough to be hard.” 

That tone spooks Brian a bit. It’s the same comfortable, knowing tone Justin uses when he’s getting his way. _“I had no idea our former relationship was still a problem for you…” Eh, fuck off, no one else cares enough to notice, why do you?_ Brian’s pretty sure he has that same deer-caught-in-headlights expression he did then, so he closes his eyes and scrunches his face for a full five seconds.

“I’m always hard,” he whispers.

“Yeah,” Justin agrees.

A sneaky second later, during which he’s sure Justin was smiling and propped up on one lazy elbow, a hand closes around his cock and gives it a nice tug. Brian mmphs and opens his eyes. 

“You told me you weren’t horny,” he accuses, hips lifting into a second stroke.

“No, I told you I wasn’t looking at porn,” Justin laughs, pressing a finger against Brian’s slit just the way he likes. “Which I wasn’t,” he clarifies a second later.

Brian can’t think of anything smart to say, so he lapses into silence and lets Justin work him over for a while. The muscles in his legs contract when Justin shoves a fingertip in a very unsubtle spot and he spreads his thighs wide open, thinking that he’s got to get in control right now or there will be something very wrong and yet very, very right happening in the world of Brian Kinney’s sex life.

He rolls over, reaches for the lube and the condoms, plucks one out after fishing, and gives Justin a look that gets his point across. 

“Not tonight, Sunshine.” 

His fingers tread, unmoved, up Justin’s shoulder and then around to his back. He flips him over, raises himself up onto his knees and settles Justin under him somehow, nearly defying gravity in the process.

“Never tonight, Brian,” Justin groans, though there’s very little disappointment or frustration in it. 

“You haven’t even bought me dinner,” Brian taunts, fingers skittering against Justin’s hole, parting him for no reason other than to draw it out and make it that much more pointed. 

“Yes I did too buy you dinner, you fucker.” Justin’s hips rock against the mattress and Brian’s finger slips in deeper, purely by accident. He can’t be very comfortable, crunched into pillows like he is. 

“Take-Out does not count.” Brian spreads a little lube on his fingers and ignores Justin’s whine at their absence. 

“It does count.” A pleased sigh when Brian returns with two fingers.

“Nope.” Brian smiles to himself, but there’s a weight behind it that they both don’t acknowledge. It _can’t_ count, because if it did count, Brian would be in deep shit. Brian Kinney doesn’t do poor, boyfriends, or carbs at night, and Justin has somehow finagled him into them all. “And don’t argue while I’m fingering you, it’s rude.”

There’s a sound like laughter, but Justin’s fingers are cat-clawing the duvet. His spine is bowing up and back down, and right where the movement is the most prominent is where Brian wants to put his hand. Possibly spank him, he can’t decide, but the mere fact that the option to is open makes him dizzy. Clever noises and dumb words start to come out hushed now. “Oh, yeah. God.” He almost adds something about a sweet ass and plowing it with his dick, but it’s really sort of obscene when compared to the perfection of Justin’s answering moan.

“Get inside of me now.”

One, two, three shoves in and out and one final, promising hit against his prostate. Brian’s teeth unwrap the condom, - can someone ever be too old for that trick? - and it’s rolled onto his cock with one hand, which is just as impressive as the last.

A moment of heated contemplation, peering down not at Justin’s back or his ass but at the ruffles of his blond hair. One thrust or a few shoves? Justin keens during the pause, and Brian knows he’s biting off his own lip by now, so one hard shove it is. God yes, his favorite fucking position, his hand finds its way to that spot he was eyeing earlier. He gets impatient and rapidly starts pistoning his hips in time with Justin’s breathing. Soon that becomes old, and anyhow Justin’s starting to choke and gasp too erratically for Brian to follow along.

Tight, hot; Brian’s played the same broken record of words in his head a million times, so now he goes strangely blank. Feels Justin’s skin beneath his hand, the ridges of his spine working beneath it, and he’s getting – oh no – almost bored. Suddenly fingers decide to catch in artfully flyaway strands and tug, but this isn’t rough sex and Brian isn’t hard on making it that way.

Brian cannot fathom why he moans so much when he’s fucking Justin. For the longest time, he thought those heady sounds and murmurs were Justin’s, practically got off on them. When he realized they were mostly his he was shocked and not a little hot for it, giving himself and Justin a small allowance of utter, unexpected abandon during sex. Oh yes, oh God, ahhs and oohhs aren’t all that trite when you’re so far into it that it makes you harder, when you don’t care anymore.

He’s at that point, and Justin drinks in it, fucking back onto his cock the way he’s done it a thousand times before. Brian sucks in a breath and comes, pounding Justin at just the right angle until he’s worked over so entirely that it would be impossible to hold back coming. And he’s right, Justin does come, sighing and huffing and moaning practically as loud as Brian.

But not quite.


End file.
